


Assuming

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Not Oblivious, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Nervous Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is trying to ignore the way he feels about Dean. He can't risk being kicked out of the bunker again, and more than anything, he doesn't want to lose his best friend. Sometimes, people can surprise you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assuming

Cas tries to ignore the drumming of Dean's fingers so close to the back of his neck as he rests his arm easily along the edge of the couch. He resolutely feigns indifference when Dean's knee brushes against his, or Dean's hand knocks against his own when he reaches for the bag of popcorn wedged between them; the leaning in with his other hand that isn't dangerously close to Cas' neck means that he feels the heat of Dean’s shoulder pushed against him too often to think coherently.

Cas wills his heart to silence, and wipes the palms of his hands down his pant legs for what feels like the hundredth time.

Dean is apparently engrossed in what they're watching, but Cas can't honestly even remember what they'd started marathoning hours ago. He's been too busy, caught in a tortuous loop of cataloguing the feel of Dean beside him and mentally cursing himself for it.

It's happened too much lately. Cas has let his mind wander, his thoughts taking him places he knew he could never go. He might, he acknowledges to himself, have some sort of feelings for Dean. But there's no way he needs to disgust him, or discuss them, with Dean.

Alright. Perhaps it's not simple feelings and more that he is ridiculously in love, pining like all of those characters Dean shows the utmost disdain for unless it's on Dr Sexy, but that doesn't mean he has to admit it out loud.

He can't take Dean sending him away, not again.

And so, it festers. It grows, silently creeping through him and latching on until it has entangled itself into his every fibre. There is no way to separate what he feels for Dean from what he does for Dean. And so he must bear this secret alone. Because this is something that Dean could never want.

Cas sighs sadly, forgetting to check himself, not noticing Dean glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

Maybe Cas should have seen the perils of rebuilding a soul from scratch, from the bowels of hell. Maybe it was inevitable that he’d fall for such a charge. But, Cas thinks, arguing with himself, any other soul could not have had the impact on him that Dean’s had. Dean is different. Dean is something. Dean makes him feel whole.

Cas shifts uncomfortably, groaning, he hopes internally, at his ridiculously sappy monologue. He is ridiculous. He is a former angel. Which also means that he is a 'grown-ass man' who should know better than to dwell on this silly, foolish, high school crush.

Stop. Stop, right now, he scolds himself, flinching away from Dean as though his skin scorched. Which, Cas supposes, it sort of did.

And then he jumps. Cas glances down, where Dean's knee has thumped heavily against his thigh and now rests, unmoving. Cas looks up, gasping a little at the incredulous look on Dean's face.

Without breaking eye contact, Dean fumbles for the remote and points it at the television, bringing the room to an uncomfortable silence.

"Talk to me, Cas. What gives?"

Cas' mouth flutters, "I don't-"

"Don't," Dean wags a chiding finger in his face then. "Don't pretend you're not being weird, Cas. All afternoon you've been,” and he flaps his hand in Cas’ direction, “skirting away from me like I've got hives or something."

Cas looks down at his lap, feeling his cheeks flush.

Dean ducks his head to keep Cas' eye contact, and Cas breathes faster at the softness he finds there. "What's going on with you?"

Cas bites down on the splurge of words that fight for freedom, shaking his head rapidly.

"It's nothing, Dean."

Dean slumps back with a grumble, and Cas feels nothing but guilt.

"Sure," Dean punches out, closing his eyes. He stands then, and Cas feels himself relax, which makes him feel even more guilty.

"Beer?" Dean shouts over his shoulder, but doesn't wait for a response. Dean's weight is slumping back down against him and a cold bottle is pressed into his hand before Cas can even think. He clinks back, taking a long slug, with his eyes diverted anywhere but in Dean’s direction.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm gonna assume I've done something to piss you off," Dean says bluntly, and Cas' eyes flick back instantly. His hand flits out too, and it's a breath away from Dean’s knee before he manages to stop himself.

Dean's eyes fall to Cas' hand, his expression unreadable.

"Cas," he breathes out slowly in frustration.

"You will not want to hear it," Cas finally settles on, certainty in his tone.

"Try me."

Cas shakes his head fearfully, and he takes another drink. He barely stops himself from choking when Dean wraps his fingers around the bottle, pulling it from him and setting it on the floor beside his own.

"Try me," he says again, determination in his voice

"I can't, Dean. I cannot deal with the consequences of you not...reacting well."

Dean laughs at that. "C'mon, Cas. Whatever it is can't be that bad."

"It could be even worse." Cas argues back, biting down on his lip.

"What do you think's gonna happen? That I'll kick you out?" He'd started off sounding teasing and joking, but by the time his words are out, Dean looks like he wants to stuff them back in his mouth.

Cas appears startled, like he's just been slapped in the face.

"Shit," Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand through his hair before reaching out to grip Cas' arm. "I've never forgiven myself for that, Cas. I don't have enough sorrys to say. I let you down."

Dean looks so sad, that before Cas can stop himself, he's covered Dean's hand with his own.

"I understand." He says, and he does, even if it's still something he fears will happen again.

"Yeah, you always do," Dean shakes his head as though in disbelief at Cas' generosity with his forgiveness.

"I could say the same for you." Cas retorts with an affectionate grin.

"Nah. If that were true, you'd tell me what's going on in there," and Dean finishes his sentence by tapping a light finger on Cas' forehead.

Cas swallows uncomfortably, eyes growing wide at Dean's closeness.

Dean lets out an exasperated whine. "You know, Cas. It's been a long ass afternoon with you being like this. If you wanted to do something else,” he waves his hand in the direction of the television, “it's not like I didn't offer." Dean crosses his arms defensively then and pulls back, leaving a cold space between them.

Cas shakes his head, more at himself than at Dean's words. He finds himself leaning forward, resting his forehead at an uncomfortable angle against Dean's shoulder.

Dean tenses in surprise for a beat, then reaches his hand out to rest on the back of Cas' head, his fingertips lightly skimming through the base of his hair unconsciously. Cas breathes out softly at how that feels.

"Please talk to me, Cas."

A pleading Dean is the unravelling of Cas, and he raises his head just enough to look at him, very aware of how much closer they are now. His eyes fall to Dean's lips and he finds he can't wrench them away.

Dean would be blind not to notice. His eyes widen a little and his own gaze flits down to Cas’ mouth for a second, before raising in question.

"Cas," he asks uncertainly, the smallest of frowns on his face.

Cas tries to pull back but Dean's hand stops him from moving at all, and he’s frozen like a deer in headlights.

Dean moves his head a fraction closer, his eyes trained on Cas' and curiosity painted across his face.

Cas swallows rapidly, and he's close enough for Dean to feel his heart beating solidly against his arm. He leans though, a little more, as though he can't stop himself, and presses his lips against Dean's.

He’s braced for _what the hell, Cas!,_ and violent shoves to the floor, and Dean stamping away from him. So he closes his eyes and sits, unmoving, for what feels like an age.

When he finally cracks an eye open, the look on Dean's face is not the one of hatred and loathing that he is expecting; it's just the slightest bit shocked, and there's the ghost of a bemused smile.

He quirks an eyebrow after a moment, but the smile grows bigger. " _That's_ what's been on your mind?" Dean asks finally, as gently as he can.

Cas nods, but his frown is deep. "You're... you..." And he shakes his head once as though to clear it from a deep fog.

Dean just watches expectantly.

Cas tries again. "You're not...angry."

Dean laughs a little. "Why would I be angry?" There's genuine confusion there, and he searches Cas' eyes for an explanation.

Cas’ mouth gapes open and closed, fish-like. "Personal space. I'm...” his words stumble, and he flicks his eyes down to his lap before looking back up, “...male. You don't want... I..." Words failed him then, and he shakes his head again.

Dean lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Alright. Let's get a few things straight."

He reaches out then to rest a hand on the front of Cas' shoulder so that he can feel his heart racing along the edge of his palm.

"It has been a long, long time since I had any issue with our personal space, Cas. And that was a lot more to do with me being in denial than you ever doing anything wrong."

Cas sucks in a strangled breath, and the bewilderment on his face is so endearing that Dean feels his own heart surging.

"Secondly. I am very, very aware that you are male, Cas," and his eyes slide slowly down Cas in something that is unmistakably appreciation. "A really, really hot one," he adds, and that endearing face just gets even more irresistible, blushing bright red.

"And as for me not wanting,” he breaths heavily, gaze coming to rest on Cas' lips once more, “you've got _no_ idea,"

"But... you like women," Cas blurts out stupidly, cursing both himself and his choice of words.

“I do," Dean nods, tilting his head in agreement. "Doesn't mean I can't like you too," he grins, squeezing his arm. "And I can't say I've never looked at a guy before. Never done anything about it, but... I've looked." Dean’s grin grows wider then, Cas' expression of utter confusion just too hard to resist. "Been looking at you for years, Cas. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

Cas' mouth is gaping. "Then why have you never said anything?" he demands in sheer frustration, his thoughts an utter whirl of conflict.

"I'm an idiot? A coward?” Dean shrugs as though it doesn't matter anymore. “And I figured we've had enough...moments...where things coulda happened but didn't... I assumed you weren't interested. In me."

Despite Dean’s words, Cas is still unable to form a coherent sentence, so Dean does the only thing he can think of. He cups Cas' beautifully bewildered face and kisses him insistently until Cas finally gathers himself enough to respond.

And it's good. Cas thinks he’s going to wake up from a very pleasant dream any moment now and be sorely disappointed. Dean feels too good, and much too eager, for any of this to be real.

But apparently, Cas is wrong, and very much awake.

Dean's other hand reaches around to weave his fingers in Cas' hair; the contented hum he gives speaks of how long he's been waiting to do just that. Cas' arm lifts, and he finds himself rubbing small circles just below the collar of Dean's shirt and Dean twists to firmly lean against Cas’.

"Wait," Dean stumbles out after a while, pulling back just a little before the hurt look on Cas' face just brings him back again, pressing himself greedily against him like he's claiming every inch of Cas for himself.

When he pulls back for a second time, it's slow, and lingering, leaving Cas in no doubt that Dean isn't having second thoughts.

"I. We, should do this properly. It's important, you know?"

Cas nods slowly, Dean loving the swollen look of his lips and that he'd been the one to put that there.

"So. Wanna go on a date with me?" Dean ducks his head briefly when he’s asked his question, and when he looks back up at Cas he is blushing for the first time since the start of this conversation.

Cas' nod now is enthusiastic, and his smile wide. "Yes," he breathes out, his voice lower than usual, making Dean’s heart thud. "Yes, of course."

Dean breathes out in relief, then laughs at himself, leaning forward to kiss Cas lightly again.

Cas pulls back then, biting down on his lower lip, looking at Dean calculatingly.

“If we are going on a date. Does that mean I can't kiss you again until we go? Because if that is the case...I'd really like to go on a date right now," his eyes are wide, and back on Dean’s lips, and Dean's smile is even wider in response.

Dean leans into Cas, pressing him back into the couch and resting his hand on the arm of it there, propping himself up over him. He moans against Cas' lips, closing his eyes when he feels Cas open his mouth under him and his fingers work their way under his shirt.

Dean's thoughts of where to take Cas on a date are somewhat lost when Cas arches up against him.

 


End file.
